First Day of My Life
by RunningoffXanaxYank
Summary: Stiles spends everyday working in the cafe, each day is the same as the next. He meets Derek and they become friends. Scott, Isaac, Allison and Lydia all play along.
1. Chapter 1

He wakes up and there's nothing special about today. It's the same as it always is and he has to go to the same job, in the same café, in the same small town that he's been living in for all his life. The sky isn't brighter and the clouds don't let anymore sun than usual, if anything the skies look darker. Not that foreboding dark, but the kind that makes you think you might actually like the rain that will soon sprinkle and wet the grey concrete. He steps out of his house to test the air. The wind snuggles against his skin, soaking in his warmth, it's nice, refreshing. He takes a red hoodie just in case it rains, so he won't get soaked. He steps out and locks up his house, before heading down the street, humming along to whatever song his IPod has decided to play this morning. People go by and he smiles awkwardly at those that walk right past him, keeping his head down when he reaches streetlights.

He arrives to the café on time, as always, and when he walks in the bell rings lightly, announcing his presence. Lydia pops her head out from the back, where she's finishing up the daily baking, before smiling softly and continuing with her duties. There was a time when he would flirt and daydream of having a life with her. A nice two story house, with a large green yard, a white fence and a tree with a tire swing in the front. Bickering over things like whose turn it is to change the diapers and who had to wash the dishes and do the laundry and in the end they would both work together to get everything done. Like a team, because that's exactly what a marriage means, caring about your needs as much as someone else's and having someone who's willing to do the same. He doesn't daydream about Lydia anymore, though. Now they're friends, and nothing more, as they should be.

He smiles at the two customers, Boyd and Erica, sitting by the window to his right before turning to greet a depressed Scott. Scott moved to town a few weeks ago, following his parent's divorce, and as he stares down at his empty cup, Stiles wonders if there's anything they can do to cheer him up. Allison appears at the counter, wiping it down with a moist cloth. She's just lost her mother and Stiles can't think of a better person to talk to. He walks over casually and she looks up at him with a half-hearted smile.

"Hi, Stiles," her voice is soft and angelic, masking the pain obvious in her eyes.

"Hey," he leans against the counter and looks over at Scott, "there's someone I want you to meet." Allison's eyes land on Scott and she looks down, shaking her head.

"I'm not really looking for anyone right now," she mumbles, fiddling with the cloth, smile not quite meeting her eyes. Stiles nods and leans closer to her.

"I think you can help each other," he tilts his head towards Scott, "come on, take a break."

Allison sighs and removes her black apron to reveal their work uniform—a skinny black tie, white blouse and black skirt. He walks her over to Scott and introduces them, they fake smiles and sit down awkwardly across from each other.

He walks over to the counter, hands his hoodie on the coat rack and pulls the black apron on. He peaks over at them as he prepares two cappuccinos. Mumbles from their table harmonize with the hum of the café and by the time he brings them the drinks, Allison and Scott have learned to smile honestly again.

Of course, she can't stay there long but Stiles takes over the counter and continues getting drinks for every customer that enters while she takes her break. Eventually Scott leaves with Allison's number saved on his phone and Allison returns to being herself—as much as any person who just lost a parent can. She doesn't discuss anything with him but the playful nudge she gives him as she reclaims the counter is more than enough for Stiles.

Later, Lydia leans out and thanks him.

When it finally starts raining, it's around two in the afternoon and Allison is long gone. The only noise in the café is the sound of Lydia cleaning up and preparing to leave for the day. The rain pounds loudly at the windows and still the lights shine brightly inside, daring the rain to try and turn them off.

"See you tomorrow," Lydia chimes as she exits the store with her clear umbrella. He worries the storm will try and swallow her up, until he sees her drive safely away. The café remains empty and while he could simply close up and call it a day, he lets himself linger over tables and he wipes them down. The traffic outside is dead and the sounds of dripping water lets him know that there's a leak. He sets a bowl beneath it and wipes the wet ground around. There's no music and the windows fog slightly because the heater's running. He sits down, deciding to wait out the storm and plays his IPod.

The bell chimes and the rain pouring outside sounds louder for a second as someone steps inside. Stiles stands immediately and rushes over to the other side of the counter to grab some towels. He hands them to the stranger and offers a smile.

"I can hang your coat if you'd like," the man nods and shrugs it off, handing it over before taking the towels with a silent thank you.

"I thought you were closed until I saw you inside," the man grumbles. Stiles sets the wet coat on the rack and wipes off some of the droplets of water with a towel. He turns to the man, dressed in a black business suit. He looks familiar but Stiles can't quite place him.

"I didn't feel like closing up early," he shrugs and steps over to the counter, "I figured I might as well ride the storm out here." They stare at each other a moment.

"Lucky me," comes the mumbled reply. There's a smile at the edge of the man's lips and Stiles stares at it for a moment before allowing himself to break out in laughter.

"Can I get you anything?" he fumbles around with the pen on the cash register, nervously licking his lips before looking up.

"Coffee?" the man leans on the counter and Stiles' heart flips twice as he pours the drink. His hands shake a little as he slides it over but nothing spills, to his delight. "My name's Derek by the way." Their eyes meet and Stiles takes a deep breath.

"I'm Stiles," Derek nods and points at the nametag pinned over Stiles' heart.

"I know." They smile at each other. "Do I know you from somewhere? You seem really familiar."

"Small town," Stiles plays with the pen as Derek takes a sip of his coffee.

"No, I know you," Derek says certainly, "I swear I've met you before." Stiles is about ready to just agree with him, because Derek looks too familiar. He leans over the counter and they set about trying to figure out how and where they've met. They never find out. Instead they somehow end up talking about their favorite films, shows, foods and eventually family. Derek has an uncle and a sister whom he works for at Hale Law Services, he loves them both though they drive him mad and constantly mock him for his addiction to caffeine. Stiles talks about his father and even his mother. It's then he finds out about Derek's family and he wonders how he could have lived without having heard of the fire.

"When I get married and have kids," he turns to Derek, "I'm moving us next to a fire department." He's rewarded with a smile.

"Too much noise," Derek hums, "it'll wake the kids and you'll never get them back to sleep."

"Okay so we'll just have to buy that expensive alarm system that they show on TV," Derek nods.

"Chances are you'd lock yourself out of the house," Stiles elbows him playfully in the rubs, "you'd be on a first name basis with the cops the first week you got the system." Derek drinks his coffee and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"The password would be something we'd always remember, a date or something," he studies how Derek's eyebrow rises to him in question.

"Birthdays are pretty obvious," he mumbles. Stiles shakes his head.

"I'm not that stupid," he thinks about it and looks over at the calendar on the wall. June 1st, 2013. He smiles and turns to Derek, " Zero, Six, Zero, One, twenty thirteen." Derek gives him another eyebrow raise before looking over at the calendar.

"You're going to use today's date?" He turns back to Stiles, skeptical.

"I don't know, but it's a nice number, add the digits and you get twenty-three," he smiles, "that's how old I am." Derek chuckles and Stiles glares at him. "What?"

"I'm thirty-two," he smiles. Twenty-three, thirty- two? 23 is 32 backwards. Stiles smiles and laughs with him. The rain settles down a little bit and Stiles washes Derek's cup. Derek, as it turns out, is quite the handyman. He patches up the ceiling as Stiles puts the left over pastries and croissants in a bag to take home. When they're done, Derek pulls his coat on and Stiles shrugs his hoodie on.

They walk to the door together.

Across the street Lydia is holding hands with Isaac, smiling. She watches as Derek escorts Stiles into his car and drives away. Sighing she turns to look at Isaac, who seems somewhat saddened.

"You okay?" she asks softly. Isaac looks over at the shop.

"It's been three years," he mumbles, "Do you think they'll ever remember each other."

"Wounds take time to heal," Lydia leans into him. She hears heels approaching her from behind and turns to find Scott and Allison walking towards them. "Marriage looks good on you Allison." They smile half-heartedly to each other before crossing the street and opening the shop. They replace everything that was used and set the store up as it was before the accident. Scott removes the patch up work Derek did. When they're done, they light two candles near the entrance in memory of their amnesia-ridden friends.

"Let's just hope he's in the mood for coffee again tomorrow," Scott sighs. Allison leans her head against Scott's shoulder.

"I'm worried about what'll happen when I start showing," she puts a hand over her stomach and Scott pulls her closer. He presses a kiss to her forehead.

"We'll deal with that later." They put the candles out and close up the shop, heading home and preparing for the next day.

A/N: This story takes place in 2019, inspired by 50 first dates, only both of them can't remember each other. They've suffered some long term and a lot of short term memory loss, incase that wasn't clear.


	2. Chapter 2

It's too quiet and he feels sick to his stomach. He turns to look at the empty side of his bed. It's empty, obviously, but be can't help feeling as though it shouldn't be. As though there should be this warm, sarcastic, and witty presence there making some joke about something or rambling on about things. There should be noise but the only thing he hears are the cars passing by outside and the wind kicking the tree branches up against his window. His hand brushes the sheets before him, some part of him searching for the missing warmth. He can't quite understand it and refuses to ask Laura. Instead he reaches over to the bedside table to grab his phone from under a small leather bound book. He picks them both up and looks at the cover of the book, it has the words 'Read Me' burned into it. The pipes squeak declaring the upstairs bathroom occupied. He opens the book. It's a journal; he will absolutely not call it a diary. The date on the first page reads 'July 15th, 2013'. He worries over the date for just a bit, he could have sworn it was June 1st, then again he always lost track of time. He probably got too caught up on the Argent case. He eyes the date before moving on, just below it are the words "Don't panic." They're written by someone else and he thinks he probably picked someone else's journal up at work by accident, it happens, or could happen. Against all better judgment, he continues reading.

_July 15__th__,2013_

_Don't panic. _

_You're incapable of writing at the moment so I'm writing this down for you. Last month you were in an accident. We don't know exactly what happened and unfortunately you don't remember it, any of it. Then again, that's probably for the best, who wants to remember something like that? Your memory is funny, you restart everyday so you're stuck on June 1__st__. Deaton says it's psychological, you're healed but you don't want to remember anything that happened after June 1__st__. I've attached some newspaper articles and a picture I took of you yesterday, just in case. I don't know why but you seem to have forgotten some people as well. So if anyone ever comes up to you asking how you are, pretend you recognize them or tell them what happened? It's up to you really. This book is hopefully only temporary, until you decide to remember. The rest of the entries will be in your hand writing, Deaton says you'll most likely be done healing tomorrow. Peter and I would spend the day with you but work calls. Cora is at school or work depending when you read this. _

_Love,_

_Laura_

_P.S_

_Finish reading everything and then come downstairs, we work from home now. (Added September 27__th__, 2014 )_

Derek flips the page, uncertain as to whether or not Laura is playing a joke on him. The newspaper articles look authentic and Laura has never been very good at faking things. He skims them, not wanting to learn more about his apparent car accident, the photo of his Camaro crashed is painful enough to look at. He can only imagine how he looked when they pulled him out of it. His eye catches on one detail, though, there were two people rushed to the hospital. Himself and a twenty-three year old, they don't say the kid's name. He moves on the next and finds that both crash victims survived and were released from the hospital. It's only two paragraphs long and there's no mention of his memory loss or the kid's condition. Below the article is a picture of him, in the hospital. He wonders how they did it, kept him there without anyone finding out about 'the family secret'. There are ways to slow the healing process but he can't imagine Laura would have approved of them under any circumstance. He turns the photo around to find a little note on it.

'The crash wasn't your fault. So heal yourself already, we need you, your family needs you – Melissa McCall" He smiles, he can hear her yelling at him for not healing. Scott's lucky to have her as a mother. He turns the page; the next entry is dated August 2nd, 2013. It's in his writing.

_Apparently I haven't been writing because I think it's stupid to talk to myself in a journal. Laura's been trying to video record everything and it's annoying so that's why I'm writing. Important things to make note of : Scott and Allison are dating. Deucalion v. Argent ended in a restraining order and we now have legal protection against the alphas, Ethan being the only exception. _ was right to force us into prosecuting them for property damage._ Four lines are blacked out; he can't read them, no matter how hard he tries. _Laura has recordings of our current case. I kept telling her it's not right to keep me on but it's Laura. She says it's like having a fresh pair of eyes to catch their mistakes from previous days. Isaac and Scott have been spending more time together; they're in the process of having Isaac transferred into Scott's pack. It's strange but better for everyone in the end. Boyd works for Laura now. Peter is stable and Cora seems to be over whatever Deucalion did to her. More tomorrow._

He keeps reading. Nothing drastic happens, Isaac starts dating someone, Scott marries Allison. Peter and Chris establish some sort of relationship. Boyd starts dating Cora. Laura remains married to the firm. Apparently the local law enforcement hates him, he's not sure why, but there's several parking tickets and traffic violations. There are several pages missing, gaps in time which span for two weeks or more. Sometimes the next entry will tell him it was intentional; other times, it's as if he were trying not to tell himself something or forget something. There's a month gap between the last two entries, pages ripped out. The last entry has two dates.

_May 31__st__, 2019_

_June 1__st__, 2013_

_We saw him today. Laura protested, said it would make things worse. She was right, of course. Still, I'm happy we went. He talked a lot and smiled. We drove him home and his father was less than pleased but we couldn't help it. There's something about him, he makes me want to remember. We don't remember him because we don't write about him, I'd write more but it's better if we never see him again. It hurts. Those nightmares, they're memories. Little flashes of what it was like before. We loved him and broke him. Don't try and find him. Get up, get dressed and fill that emptiness with work. I can't believe its six years tomorrow._

Derek stares at the entry. he signed it with his name, as if he was trying to prove to himself that he wrote it and meant it. Sighing, he flips to the next page and grabs a pen from the bedside table and starts writing. When he's finished he gets out of bed and prepares for work. The bathroom is empty and he showers peacefully. He can hear Laura and Peter talking non-stop about work. Boyd arrives just as Derek exits the bathroom. He grabs the journal and heads down stairs. Boyd smiles at him and Derek returns one of his own. The smell of pancakes and bacon fill his noise and he migrates to the kitchen to find Laura cooking like a maniac. Peter is sitting at the table watching her, case files in his lap and stacked against the wall.

"Good morning," Laura smiles at him halfheartedly and dumps a skillet worth of eggs onto a plate.

"Hi, come eat," she motions at the mountain of pancakes swaying and the bowls of bacon and fruit. Boyd walks slowly into towards the table and Peter throws the files on his lap to the stack against the wall. Laura moves around taking the food to the table and grabbing utensils and plates to eat on.

"Did you invite the entire neighborhood to breakfast?" Laura pauses, holding a gallon of orange juice in her hand. Her shoulders slump and her smile fades. She looks over at the food then down at her feet. The sadness rolls off of her in waves and he takes the steps necessary to hug her. "Thank you for the food," Laura scoffs and hugs him, burring her face in his shoulder, "but you went a little overboard." He tightens his grip and then relaxes it before adding, "Again." Laura sniffles and Derek looks over at Boyd and Peter. They're both very fascinated with the wooden table. He turns his attention back to Laura. "I'm fine, you know," he whispers. Laura nods but his mind runs off somewhere.

Laura turns to him from the counter, "No you're not fine, Derek!" Peter is in the living room pretending he can't hear and Cora's in the corner trying to get the walls to swallow her up. "You think you are because you can't remember what 'being fine' really is! So let me tell you, you are absolutely not fine!" Derek stands in his place, no bothering to feel anything. "Look at you," she motions to him, "you spend everyday trying to get him back and then you come home looking like you just had the life sucked out of you." Derek looks away from her. "Just stop. Please," she breaks down in sobs. "I just want my brother back." Cora walks over to Laura and hugs her. Derek walks away.

"I know," Laura finally says, pulling away. Derek smiles softly at her before turning to look at food.

"We can always eat the leftovers for lunch and dinner," Laura laughs at that. Boyd looks up at him as if it were some kind of punishment.

"Don't worry Boyd," Cora says, appearing in the foyer. She's grown, a lot. There were pictures in the journal but none were recent. "You and I are having lunch with Isaac today." She smiles over at Derek, "Sorry, couples only." Derek rolls his eyes. They eat breakfast without any problems and Laura kicks him out of the house afterwards, refusing to let him work. Its fine, he wanted to see Deaton anyway.

When he arrives to the animal clinic, there's a blue jeep in the parking lot. He parks next to it and as he gets out of the car, Scott walks out of the clinic. Derek waves at him but Scott stops dead in his tracks and starts walking backwards, into the clinic. Derek walks forward.

"Something wrong?" obviously, there is something wrong. Scott's eyes are beaming red and Derek fights the urge to growl at him. He keeps moving towards the door, only to find that there's someone trying to get out of the clinic.

"Come on Scott," the voice whines, "I'm going to be late for work!" Derek tries to look over Scott's shoulder but the alpha blocks his view. Annoyed, Derek backs away, there's no use in fighting on neutral territory over someone Derek doesn't know.

"Congrats on your marriage," Scott seems shocked about it, as if he wasn't aware that Derek knew about it. "I'll go around back." He turns and walks away, fighting the stab of curiosity that arises when he hears an offended "you're married?" whispered from behind. He walks inside, barely inside the door when Deaton speaks.

"The back door is for emergencies and employees only," Deaton looks up at him from his set of herbs. Derek walks over to the exam table. "Is this an emergency?" Derek nods.

"Who is he?" Deaton stiffens and picks up the herbs, moving over to one of the cabinets to put them away.

"Who is who?" He takes his time putting them away and Derek watches him.

"You know who he is," Deaton turns to him, skeptical.

"What makes you so sure?" He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, "You haven't told me his name so how should I know who you are referring to." Derek grips the exam table and looks at his distorted reflection in the metal before turning to Deaton.

"I saw him yesterday but I didn't write his name down," Deaton's nods sympathetically, "I just need his name. I won't," he pauses before pushing himself away from the table and walking over to Deaton, "I just need to know his name."

"You didn't write it down," Deaton looks him right in the eyes, "you don't think there's a reason for it?" Derek backs away with at sigh. He's frustrated. Of course Deaton wouldn't give him a straight answer, this had probably happened before, one of the ripped out pages filled with information Derek can't remember. "You know yourself, if you didn't write his name down that's probably because you knew you would go looking for him if you did."

"I didn't write his name down because no matter how," he pauses to find the right word, fails, "good he makes me feel when I with him," Deaton's gaze drops to the floor, "I always feel like," he pauses, wishing he had someone who could find the word for him. He growls at himself and Deaton seems to understand his frustration.

"Stiles." Before he can ask Deaton speaks up again, "his name is Stiles Stilinski." Stilinski, the Sherriff's kid, it explains the tickets. Derek nods and thanks him, heading for the back door. "Derek?" He stops and turns back the vet. "He doesn't remember you." Deaton picks up a notepad and pulls out a pen. He starts writing something down.

"He was in the car with me," Deaton stops and looks up at him, "when it happened. He was there, wasn't he?" Deaton remains silent before tearing the sheet he wrote on off and handing it to Derek. Its address, Deaton doesn't elaborate and Derek doesn't ask. He drives to the location, surprised to find it's a small café. It's empty, morning rush over, through the window he can see the cashier smiling. The sight makes him feel unbelievably warm. He pulls the door open, breathing in the smell of sugar, coffee and caramel. At the counter, a brown-haired cashier is welcoming him, with a smile. Even without the name tag, Derek would have known it was Stiles.

"Hi," he smiles as he walks up to the counter. Stiles looks at him, smile gone and eye brows furrowed. He's confused to say the least.

"What can I get for you?" Stiles stares at him, eyes narrowed and for a second Derek thinks he might remember him.

"Coffee." He takes out five dollars and puts it on the counter, "two sugars, no cream." Stiles takes the cash and hands Derek his change and receipt before turning away to grab the coffee. He's about to amend the order and ask for three sugars instead, but decides against it. He didn't come for the coffee anyway. He turns around to get a good look at the place. It's nice, the walls are a cream color and a dark shade of brown. There are high chairs and booths and on the far right wall there are photos of the previous owners. He takes a seat on a stool by the counter and turns to find Stiles staring at him.

"Do I know you?" before Derek can answer Stiles speaks up again, "No, I'd remember your name if I did. I remember almost everyone who walks in here, most of them become regulars." He hands Derek his coffee.

"I live in town, maybe you've seen me around?" He takes a sip, it's perfect. He looks at the cup and takes another sip before looking up at Stiles.

"I put three sugars," Stiles smiles, "you look like a no sugar or three sugars kind of guy." Derek laughs at that, mostly because it's true. Stiles chuckles as a slight blush rises over his cheeks. Before he can say anything, Allison walks out of the back room and Derek turns to look at her. She freezes, heart going wild in panic. But the sound is muted by her voice, in his head, yelling at him.

"_So that's it? You're just going to give up on him?" She's crying. She has no right to cry, she doesn't know what it's like, to loose someone like this. It's not the same for werewolves as it is for humans. "After everything, you're just going to leave him because," she move towards him, "It hurts too much?" He growls at her and she jumps back, Scott jumps in front of him. _

"_Back off," He's just trying to protect her, but Derek doesn't care, he's in the way. He attacks Scott_.

"You alright there buddy?" Stiles' voice shakes him out whatever painful memory he was about to relive. He's grateful for it, he smiles. Stiles has yet to raise a painful memory out of him.

"Sorry, I remembered something I forgot," he smiles and takes a sip of the coffee Stiles poured him.

"Good or bad?" Stiles tries to sound indifferent but his heart gives him away. There's genuine concern displayed on his face, he keeps rubbing the same spot on the counter with the cloth in his hands.

"Both," Stiles looks at him like he's insane, "I remembered an argument with a friend."

"How is that good?" Stiles abandons all pretense of cleaning the counter, "I'm pretty sure fighting with friends is bad, all the time." Derek nods and takes a sip of the coffee.

"The argument was bad," He looks over at Allison, knowing she can hear them, he turns back to Stiles, "but it's good that I remembered it, she was right." Stiles furrows his eyebrows, confused. Derek doesn't blame him, he hasn't said much that would make sense.

"Right about what?" Allison walks over to them. She's pregnant, Derek can smell the hormones coming off of her, he wonders briefly how they're planning on explaining it to Stiles later on. He turns back to Stiles, who's still waiting for a response.

"Everything," Derek drinks his coffee, "She was right about everything." He looks at Allison and she smiles lightly at him.

"Stiles Lydia wants to talk to you," Stiles sighs and walks to the back, Allison takes his place, smile gone and face stern.

"How much do you remember," she looks him straight in the eye. Derek shifts in the chair, uncomfortable. Stiles is gone and, as sappy as it may sound, the room seems darker.

"Not enough," Allison seems content with the answer. She looks over her shoulder towards the doorway Stiles disappeared through.

"This isn't the first time you've come here to try with him again," he'd figured that much, considering the number of pages that are missing and the dates between entries. He's tried and failed at least four times. Allison sighs, "but this is the first time you've remembered something," she chokes on the last word, the next two are whispered, "about me." She gulps and looks away but not before Derek can see the tears forming in her eyes. His hand finds its way onto her and he squeezes it lightly. Allison lets out a small laugh, apologizing.

"How far along are you?" he hopes he's not being rude and Allison looks up at him, a small smile on her lips.

"Six weeks," she wipes the tears from her eyes, still holding Derek's hand.

"You should tell him," he motions to the backroom with his head and Allison looks at him like he's crazy. Derek pulls out the leather notebook and places it on the counter. He lets go of Allison's hand and she picks it up. "We could make him one of these and he could read it in the morning." She opens the page and starts reading, her eyes snap up to Derek and he nods at her to keep reading. She skims it and moves on to the newspaper clippings and the image of Derek in the hospital.

"He was there with you," she puts the picture of him at the hospital down; "he was in the bed right next to you." Derek looks at the photo, as if he could see into it and find Stiles there. "You wouldn't sleep with out him in the room so Scott's mom had then moved Stiles in."

"_You better sleep now," Melissa barked at him, "I got him moved into here with you so rest up and start healing." He grunted and closed his eyes, pain pulling him into a restless sleep._

He looks at the photo and wonders why Laura never told him, why she avoided mentioning Stiles from the start. Stiles walks back in and stares at the both of them.

"What did I miss?" he moves closer cautiously and Allison smiles. They don't tell him, just laugh and he laughs with them. It's impossible to describe what it's like to hear something you never knew you missed, he doesn't even try, just lets his emotions run free as Stiles speaks animatedly to him. When the lunch rush comes in, Derek excuses himself. Allison writes his name and number on the calendar and sends him a smile as he leaves. He gets in his car and opens the journal to the page he wrote on in the morning.

_June 1__st__ 2019_

_Going to Deaton's. I need to know his name. _

He smiles and writes Stiles' name down. He stares at it for a bit before writing down everything else, not wanting to risk forgetting anything. When he's finished he starts the car and drives home. It's strange though, he feels uneasy. He drives carefully, more so than usual. Something feels off and he keeps checking his mirrors, to take his mind off of it. He tries to play music but it sounds bad to his ears. By the time he gets home, he can't bring himself to be happy about today, let alone tomorrow. He doesn't remember a lot and what he's remembered makes him question whether or not he really does want to remember. He walks into the living room and Laura looks up at him from a pile of what looks like a cost-reimbursement contract, an extremely detailed one. Boyd walks over and hands Laura a sandwich. Derek realizes Boyd never spoke to him about Stiles either. Peter and Cora remaining silent makes sense they're too busy with themselves but Boyd? Boyd is straight forward, he doesn't pretend to be friends with anyone and he doesn't lie to the people around him. So why did he help keep Stiles a secret? Did Derek ask him to? Why would he ask him to? He hates that some part echoes 'Why wouldn't you has him to?'

"What's up Der?" she takes a bite of the sandwich and moans, content with how it tastes. Boyd smiles.

"Why didn't you tell me about Stiles?" Laura looks up and him. Boyd stands and tries to walk away. "That goes for you to, for all of you." He knows Cora and Peter can hear him, isn't surprised when he hears the back door open and close. Boyd sits down on the couch.

"We didn't want you to think it was your fault," Derek turns to the beta. Boyd looks down at his hands.

"It was," Laura opens her mouth to protest, "I was driving, the car crashed, it was my fault."

"We don't know that for sure," Laura starts. Something inside snaps, pushes his anger forward and pushes aside all other emotion.

"I was driving," he barks back, "I crashed the car, it was my fault." Laura looks away, shrinking into the couch. Boyd stays quiet. For a moment he wants to beat him senseless, until he starts talking. He can feel his claws seeping into the flesh, the anger chokes him. Boyd keeps still, reeking of fear. Laura snaps him out of it.

"You saw him today," it's not a question so he doesn't bother to answer. "You're always like this when you see him." Laura sounds weak, broken. She turns to look at him, "that's why I never talk about him." She looks down, picking at her nails, "Because he makes you act like this." Derek looks at Boyd, for support maybe, but the beta's refuses to meet his gaze. He wonders how many times they've had this argument. How many times he's failed to keep control of his emotions.

"I saw him yesterday," Laura nods, "and when I came home?"

"You tried to kill Peter when he told you to back off." It's not a lie. He wishes it was. Without another word he walks up to his room. He shuts the door and pulls out the journal. He stares at it for who knows how long before settling on writing down everything that happened. Peter and Cora return to the house but no one comes up stairs, not even to offer him food. Around five Cora leaves with Boyd. Laura and Peter stay downstairs, he wonders if they'll sleep on the couch. He falls asleep and the dreams come back. It's always the same. A smile, its face, the voice, a scream, then blood.

Laura wakes up suddenly. Her neck aches from sleeping on the couch wrong; really it's her fault for falling asleep while working. She sets the files on her lap aside and sits up. Derek's in the kitchen, making food, she thinks. If she wants to get to bed without running into Derek, now's her only chance. She stands, sending a pile of paperwork crashing to the ground. Her eyes dart to the kitchen doorway. Nothing. She stays still, listening but Derek doesn't walk out. Instead, the smell of burning gas fills her nostrils. She runs into the kitchen and for a brief moment she thinks she see someone standing behind Derek, hands wrapped around his neck, whispering nonsense into his ear. It disappears as she steps into the kitchen, she rushes over to Derek. He's holding a piece of paper over a lighter. As she reaches his side, he sets the page on fire and drops it to burn in the sink. Laura looks down at it. _June 1__st__, 2019_. She nudges Derek aside and he falls to the ground passed out. She turns the faucet on and pours water on what's left of the page. She turns off the water when the fire's gone then turns to Derek. He hasn't moved an inch. Worried, she leans down and shakes his shoulder lightly.

"Derek," she shakes him again and nothing, "Derek! Wake up!" Upstairs she hears Peter wake up. He rushes down but Derek's still out.

"What happened?" Laura looks up at him, shaking her head. Peter walks over to the sink. He looks down at what's left of the page. The fire tore it into two pieces.

_His name is Stiles Stilinski._

_Forget it. _

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter and did not correct my math for me! I'm keeping the date and the ages the same and I'll try to find a way to blend the bad math into the story. For now here's a really long chapter. You can tell that I did a complete 180 from the last chapter and that's because I dreamt stuff and then decided to change the story! YAY!


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